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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23348140">your touch is a fucking drag</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribespirare/pseuds/scribespirare'>scribespirare</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wolf 359 (Radio)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Begging, Bondage, Dubcon is just consent by the end, Extremely Dubious Consent, Hand Jobs, I have no idea when in canon this takes place it just does, M/M, Medical Kink, Milking, Multiple Orgasms, Open Ending, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Premature Ejaculation, Sensitivity, but it still starts as dub/non, drawing blood - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 09:27:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,452</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23348140</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribespirare/pseuds/scribespirare</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“You need to go 50 Shades of Grey on me just to take a blood sample? What gives, Hilbert, you’ve never pulled out all the bondage gear before now.”</p>
<p>Apparently something about what he just said is particularly funny because it pulls a genuine laugh out of Hilbert.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Doug Eiffel/Alexander Hilbert</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>90</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>your touch is a fucking drag</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>as i am want to do, ive showed up a few years too late to the party. ah, well, hopefully someone out there appreciates this. im kind of tempted to turn it into a series....</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Please, Officer Eiffel, have a seat.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sure thing, doc!” As it is, ‘taking a seat’ in space is a little more difficult than the phrasing might imply. And even though he’s been doing this for over a year now, it takes Eiffel a moment to pull himself onto the exam table. He spends another moment fumbling to get one of the straps across his lap, meant to keep him in place and not floating off every time Doc Frankenstein tries to stick him with another needle. Apparently he takes too long because Hilbert heaves a sigh and floats over to help the process along himself. His hands, slightly gnarled with age but still so strong, so capable, ghost over Eiffel’s thighs as he helps strap him in.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“There. Nice and secure?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Snug as a bug,” Eiffel confirms. He wriggles around a little in his bindings to prove his point. There are two straps on each thigh, one around his waist, and then another just below his knees that keeps them bent over the edge of the table. It feels like a bit of overkill but it’s pretty standard procedure for Hilbert so Eiffel just rolls with it. “What’s on today’s menu of cruel and unusual punishments, doc?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Running blood tests,” Hilbert says, as always oh so forthcoming with information. “Lay back, please.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Eiffel makes a face at the prospect of having his upper half restrained but Hilbert’s poker face doesn’t so much as twitch. Figures. “Um, I’d rather not if it’s all the same.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>That <em>does</em> make Hilbert’s expression twitch, his mouth pulling down at one corner and his eyes narrowing like he wants to roll them but is physically holding himself back. “Is <em>not </em>all the same, Officer Eiffel. Need to test the levels of Decima in your blood. You want to keep healthy, yes?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You mean do I want you to keep me alive through all of the awful experiments that I very ill-advisedly and also very <em>tentatively </em>agreed to? Why yes, yes I do.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>All he gets in response to that is a grunt and a firm hand against his shoulder, pushing him back.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Alright, alright, no need to get handsy,” Eiffel grumbles, laying back as close to the table as he can manage. Hilbert does the rest by securing a strap over his chest and then cinching it tight. It’s when he reaches to do the same to Eiffel’s wrists that the red flags start going off. Or, rather, going off more than they usually do when he’s in Hilbert’s vicinity.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Woah, woah easy there nurse Nightingale!” Eiffel says, wriggling ineffectually in place.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Stay still,” Hilbert snaps, brow drawing in concentration as he pins one of Eiffel’s wrists. “This is for your safety.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The last time you strapped me down to something I spent two weeks slowly going insane!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“But you survived, yes?” Hilbert points out, strapping down Eiffel’s other wrist. “Stop complaining. You agreed to continue research, this is continuing research.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I didn’t agree to being tortured!” Eiffel snaps, struggling despite how tight the bindings are. He’s not really panicked, not yet, but he <em>is </em>incredibly uncomfortable with the direction this situation has taken. He’d like to get off the crazy train now while it’s still in the station and not in full motion. Please and thank you.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Unfortunately, Hilbert has literally never cared about what Eiffel wants and he’s not going to start now.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Is not torture,” Hilbert assures him calmly, floating back towards his desk to gather supplies and then pushing off towards the exam table again. He attaches a tether from the table to a small plate with all of his tools locked into place in grooves in the metal. Keeping them close at hand but not floating dangerously around the room. “If was torture, you would know.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“’Cause that’s real reassuring,” Eiffel mutters, then louder, “Okay, Victor von Doom, what <em>are</em> you doing then?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Told you. Testing your blood.” That said, Hilbert drags a cleaning agent across the inside of Eiffel’s elbow who sniffs indigently but doesn’t move.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You need to go 50 Shades of Grey on me just to take a blood sample? What gives, Hilbert, you’ve never pulled out all the bondage gear before now.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Apparently something about what he just said is <em>particularly </em>funny because it pulls a genuine laugh out of Hilbert. Not the low, mocking thing Eiffel has become acquainted with after Hilbert ditched his ‘quirky but harmless Doc Brown’ schtick. This is quiet and doesn’t sound forced in the slightest, just a little chuckle to himself like Eiffel made a quip over Sunday brunch. Eiffel’s eyes widen at first, taken by surprise, before narrowing.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Care to share with the class there, doc?” he asks acerbically.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But Hilbert just shakes his head and preps several vials. “You will see, Eiffel. Just give me a few moments.” That said, he sticks Eiffel’s inner arm with all his usual finesse and gentleness. Which is to say, plenty of the former which results in the latter which has always baffled Eiffel because a doctor like Hilbert should <em>definitely </em>be stabbing him viciously with every needle he can. He’s a mad scientist like that. But except for physical exams he’s always been very good at not causing any pain or discomfort, his hands deft, his concentration unwavering. Eiffel, who has never been very good with needles or pain, barely even flinches from the faint pinch.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Very good,” Hilbert praises, but it sounds distant and practiced. Like something he just automatically says to patients when his brain is a million miles away. “Just one more moment…and there.” He quickly locks both vials back into their slots on the plate, caps the needle, and sticks it into a biohazard container.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So…you’re gonna let me go now?” Eiffel asks hopefully. It earns him a snort from the good doctor, who is now pulling on a new pair of gloves.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Do not joke, Eiffel. You are not funny.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Eiffel opens his mouth to complain about his treatment some more, but then stalls out a moment. “Hey!” he says when his brain catches up, “I am <em>hilarious </em>thank you very much, just ask anyone aboard this ship.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Mhmm,” Hilbert says absently, patronizingly. “We are moving on to next part of research. Please lie still.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Um,” Eiffel says, anxiety rocketing up a notch when Hilbert reaches for his throat. He flinches back as best he can given his position, breath catching…until Hilbert grabs the zipper on his jumpsuit and starts pulling it down. “What-”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Shh, told you already. Next part of research.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Effiel’s eyebrows shoot up as Hilbert gets the zipper all the way down before pausing and grunting in frustration. “Should have made you strip before we started,” he mutters, more to himself than anything. “I don’t suppose if I let you go, you would be willing to get back into straps?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You guessed correctly, doc,” Eiffel informs him, none too nicely.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Very well. No matter.” That said, Hilbert pops a scalpel from his little plate of goodies and Eiffel can physically feel the blood drain from his face.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Woah, hey, let’s talk about this maybe!?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Relax,” Hilbert rumbles, not at all comfortingly. “Am cutting your jumpsuit, nothing more.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Excuse me if I don’t believe you,” Eiffel hisses, voice a little higher pitched than he’d like. But Hilbert stays true to his word, quickly and neatly cutting the front of his jumpsuit open, tossing aside the excess pieces of fabric. Then he goes after Eiffel’s boxers which is just ridiculously rude and Eiffel says as much.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s not like I can just take a stroll to the next galaxy and pick up a new pair, asshole! You <em>so </em>owe me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Plenty of spare clothing in hold. Will find more for you later,” Hilbert says. It only dawns on Eiffel that he’s actually sitting here naked in front of the good doctor when Hilbert grabs his soft dick in one gloved hand. It’s not like Eiffel hasn’t been in this position before, because he has. But he’s also done the whole turn and cough thing enough to know that this is <em>not </em>how it goes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Um, Hilbert, what exactly is the research you're trying to do right now?” Eiffel…well, he squeaks. He’s not too proud to admit that when his <em>dick </em>is in the hand of someone <em>dangerous </em>he squeaks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Testing Decima’s reaction to raised endorphins as well as oxytocin,” Hilbert replies calmly. Jesus, he’s not even looking at Eiffel, too busy squirting what looks suspiciously like lube into the hand not currently holding Eiffel’s pride and joy.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And you can’t…I don’t know, get my body to produce those chemicals any other way? Or even give them to me artificially?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Do not be ridiculous,” Hilbert says, rubbing the lube between his fingers, presumably to warm it up. How courteous of him. “Natural production is much better way of testing. Now relax please. This will be over quickly and I will take more blood samples.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>That said, he grabs Eiffel in his lubed hand and…look, it’s been a long time since Eiffel has done anything even <em>resembling </em>sex, okay? So mad scientist or not, he hardens up almost immediately under warm, wet fingers and a sure grip. Hilbert arches an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything. That is, until, after just two strokes, Eiffel comes with a gasp and a shudder.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Eiffel!” he snaps.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What!?” Eiffel snaps back, embarrassment making him flush further. “It’s been a long time, okay!?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“A little warning would have been appreciated,” Hilbert grumbles, and then goes about cleaning up the floating drops of cum drifting lazily over Eiffel’s body. Then he gets back into position and grabs Eiffel’s dick again, making him yelp.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey, I’m still sensitive, can’t you- wait, ow, ow ,ow-” But Hilbert isn’t listening, just determinedly stroking away at Eiffel’s dick until it almost unwillingly starts to harden again, the tip an angry, weeping red. Eiffel squirms and whines the entire time, the pleasure-pain of it almost too much to bear.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I hate you so much right now,” Eiffel gasps, head rolling uncomfortably against the table as he feels his thighs spasm. “God, I hate you, I hate you, <em>fuck-”</em></p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>“Yes, yes,” Hilbert says knowingly. His hands, gnarled with age but still oh so competent, have <em>no </em>right feeling that good. And through gloves nonetheless. Trojan must have made those gloves Eiffel decides, almost deliriously, because only a condom company could get the latex that damn thin. The heat of Hilbert’s palm, the faint texture of calluses, the ridges of his fingers, all of them are detectable and all of them are driving Eiffel wild. He thinks he might sob a little when Hilbert twists his wrist on the upstroke and rubs his thumb over the weeping tip of Eiffel’s cock.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Jesus, how are you so-”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Must get sample now,” Hilbert declares before Eiffel can finish his question. “Can you stay hard for duration of blood draw?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Uh,” Eiffel replies stupidly, unable to focus on anything except that Hilbert’s hands have <em>stopped </em>and they <em>shouldn’t</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Hilbert actually cracks a small smirk. “Of course not. Wait one moment please.” He keeps one hand on Eiffel’s dick, stroking it gently, absentmindedly, as he pops something else out from the plate. It’s a small black band and Eiffel already does not like where this is going, not one bit. Not that he likes where it’s <em>been </em>going sine…well, since he walked in the door. Floated. Floated in the door. <em>Whatever</em>. The point is he’s definitely not into this, the being tied down, the humiliation, the pain, the lack of consent, the…the pure <em>wrongness </em>of this entire situation. Yup. Definitely not into that.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Just like he thought it would, the small band is wrapped around the base of his cock and balls, tightened to the point of pain. He gasps with it, trying and failing to twist his hips away from those steady, sure fingers. “What-”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Can’t have you ejaculating again, Officer Eiffel,” Hilbert says calmly. Somehow the usage of his title in this situation only makes Eiffel flush brighter red. “Not until I am ready for you to.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m….I’m not usually that much of a quick shot, promise,” Eiffel jokes weakly. Hilbert’s already trading his lube covered gloves out for a new pair, swiping at Eiffel’s inner arm again to disinfect it. He doesn’t dignify Eiffel’s quip in the slightest, only says, “Be still please. Should have left a butterfly needle in, but thought it might distract from pleasure.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“How considerate of you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes, quite.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>With a huff Eiffel rolls his head back against the table until he’s staring at what, in any other place except a space station, might be considered a ceiling. Here it’s just the North wall and what he happens to be positioned facing. He winces through the prick of the needle and tries not to think about how his entire lower half feels like it’s throbbing. The term blue-balls can’t come anywhere close to what he’s experiencing right now, the way half his brain seems have melted into his bloodstream and taken up residence in his cock, leaving him to gasp and scrabble and <em>want</em>. He’s not sure he’s ever been this desperate, never been tied up and left alone like this. Even the faint drafts of air caused by Hilbert’s movements as he quietly goes about taking his samples make Eiffel’s dick twitch. More pre-cum beads at the tip, collecting into a large droplet that eventually detaches itself and floats off. Ha. That’ll be hilarious when Hilbert finds it again.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>This time Hilbert does leave the butterfly needle in Eiffel’s arm once he’s finished. He marks the vials, pops them into place, discards his gloves and the syringe. And makes absolutely <em>no </em>move to finish the job he started.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Um, doc?” Eiffel says nervously as Hilbert grabs one of the original vials and moves towards his desk. He pops it into some device there that starts whirring quietly. “Doc? Hilbert? You’re not just gonna…”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Leave you like that?” Hilbert finishes, sounding slightly amused. “No. Oxytocin not produced until orgasm. However, don’t think first orgasm was…substantial enough to give results. Will need one more sample.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It’s awful and he definitely <em>shouldn’t </em>be sighing in relief, but Eiffel finds himself doing it anyways. This is…all wrong. It’s <em>rape</em> technically, which, yeah he’d known Hilbert’s morals were firmly on the dark grey side but he hadn’t realized they were <em>that </em>bad.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Yet all Eiffel can feel when Hilbert comes back to the table is excitement and relief.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh thank god, fuck, get that thing off me,” he says breathlessly, making Hilbert laugh softly again.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Patience,” the older man chides, trailing one gloved finger up Eiffel’s length. It makes him groan and twist, wanting more of that contact and friction. “Will remove when is time.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“When it’s <em>time</em>!?” Eiffel snaps, then gasps loudly when Hilbert takes him fully in hand again, spine trying to arch up against his restraints. “Oh, oh god, please, I-”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hmm, nothing shuts you up,” Hilbert muses and all Eiffel can do is whine as the older man squeezes him almost painfully. When he’s got his breath back he laughs weakly, shaking his head as best he can.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, can’t say I’ve ever been s-silent a day in my-ha-oh oh fuck, god, I-” he trails off into another embarrassingly high pitched whine. “H-Hilbert!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes, Eiffel?” Hilbert asks, all calm demeanour and mean twist to his mouth, like he’s really enjoying himself right now. Eiffel can’t decide if that’s better or worse than the uncaring physician act.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Let me come?” he tries, trying and failing to make eye contact with the good doctor. Hilbert keeps glancing down at what he’s doing, one hand working Eiffel’s cock at a steady if unsatisfying pace, his other pulling at Eiffel’s balls. Eiffel’s not sure if they’re actually blue right now but they have to be with how tight and full and painful they feel.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I am afraid I cannot let you do that yet,” Hilbert replies, all faux remorse.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Why not?” Eiffel whines pathetically, then loses that entire train of thought and every other thought in his head when Hilbert’s fingers dip down behind his balls, trailing his taint and then pressing gently against his hole. “<em>Oh,” </em>he breathes, his entire body lighting up at the prospect of what that one little touch could mean.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Hilbert raises an eyebrow at him, pausing all his movements. After a moment he hums and pulls his fingers away, making Eiffel’s breath catch in complaint and disappointment. “Hm, perhaps next session will stimulate prostate. See how it affects results.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Next time?” Eiffel asks, feeling dizzy and unbalanced. But before he can ask again or try to ground himself in any way, Hilbert is removing the black band from around his balls. All it takes is one good hard stroke for him to come, his orgasm slamming into him so hard his vision goes dark around the edges. He can feel his eyes fluttering, his mouth falling open, toes curling, legs tensing and relaxing. He must be making some kind of embarrassing noise, knows there’s no chance he isn’t, but there’s only the sound of his own pounding heart in his ears. It’s literally the best orgasm of his entire life.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His entire body is shaking when he’s able to focus properly again. Hilbert is floating calmly beside him, filling up his last vial of blood. He bandages Eiffel’s arm afterwards, quick and efficient, and Eiffel can only stare on silently as all the implications of what just happened start to sink in.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It’s only when Hilbert starts to undo his bindings that Eiffel’s able to find his voice. “So…that just happened.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Hilbert gives him a look like he’s a particularly slow child. “Yes.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, I mean like…<em>that</em> just happened. You. Gave me a handjob.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“For research purposes,” Hilbert tacks on, then shrugs his shoulders. “But yes.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And you said that, uh, next time…” Eiffel trails off, his mouth suddenly feeling dry. He has to swallow hard, his throat clicking with it. “Next time you said something about my uh, my prostate?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes,” Hilbert repeats. He’s peeled off his gloves now and is moving the plate back towards his desk, where it locks into place against the side. “Was planning on uh, oh what is the word in English…finger? Yes, was planning to finger you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Eiffel’s jaw drops open, his heart kicking up it’s pace. If his dick wasn’t absolutely wiped he’s pretty sure it would be giving more than a little twitch in interest.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Close mouth, Eiffel,” Hilbert says almost…playfully? Christ, what is happening right now. “Spare jumpsuit in drawer under table. Change then go eat, need to replenish lost blood.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Right,” Eiffel says faintly. “Right, yeah, okay.” Moving stiffly he does as he’s told, passing over his ruined clothes to be tossed into the trash receptacle by Hilbert’s desk. He’s almost out the door when Hilbert calls his name again.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Have moved next session from next week to two days from now at 2200 hours. Acceptable?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A shiver runs up Eiffel’s spine and his breath shakes. “Yeah, doc,” he says. “That sounds great.” He should be surprised by how much he means that, but all he can think about is those hands on his skin. So sure. So…clinical.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Very good. Have a nice night, Officer Eiffel,” Hilbert says, and Eiffel lets the door to the lab close behind him without a response. Once outside he takes a moment to even out his breathing and gather his thoughts.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Eiffel?” comes a different voice, slightly concerned. “Are you okay?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m fine, Hera,” Eiffel says, though he knows it’s not particularly convincing. With a shake of his head he pushes off against the nearest wall and heads for the mess. “Just an…interesting session with our resident Dr.Jekyll.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh?” Hera replies, still sounding concerned. “I’m still programmed to not monitor your sessions due to doctor-patient confidentiality, but if you want I can-”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No!” Eiffel is quick to say. Then, more calm, “No, Hera, it’s fine. It wasn’t. Bad. Just unexpected, is all.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Alright,” she says, dragging the word out slowly. “If you’re sure.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m sure, Hera. If anything I’m…kinda looking forward to the next session.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>That surprises his AI friend into a stunned silence, which is just the chance Eiffel needs to change the subject. He launches into a stupid story from that morning and in mere minutes has her arguing cheerfully with him. Score one for his distracting abilities.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Now if he can only distract <em>himself </em>for two whole days.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hmu on <a href="https://scribespirare.tumblr.com/">tumblr</a>!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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